Chapter Eighteen

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I stare at Bryony in shock. The roof is the arena now? That makes no sense.

But actually, it does, I guess.

What about all the skyscrapers from Districts 1 and 2? I guess they will have just shrunk, right? How is that even possible?

You know what, it's the Hunger Games. The Capitol Games, in fact. I suppose anything and everything is possible here.

"Bryony?" I whisper, the announcement making me ever aware of the fact that people are probably watching us right now, way back home. "What should we do?"

She stares back at me, and suddenly puts her arm around me in a tight embrace. I hug her back, so grateful that she is here with me.

She steps back, and I notice there are tears in her eyes. She wipes them away quickly before the cameras can glimpse them. "Sorry," she says. "First, we probably need to find a place to set up camp. We need a big chimney that we can hide behind."

"But can't tributes just see us from the other side, though?" Every angle is completely open to onlookers that will have their sights set on spilling our blood.

"That's a good point." We lapse into silence, both thinking of a way to combat this problem.

"Well, why don't we just pick a chimney near the edge of the arena? Then there won't be much space for them to stand where they can see us, and we'll be able to see them."

Bryony stars at me, then let's out a small laugh. "You see, Cee, this is why your my best friend," she replies. I feel a blush working its way up into my face.

"Why, thank you." I curtesy, laughing. It's the last time we ever have fun together.


"This one!" I announce.

"You've said that to every chimney we've seen so far," Bryony grumbles, trailing behind me.

"I know, but I have a feeling about this one." I point to the area just behind the chimney, where the air is glimmering like in a heat wave. "Look, the air is shimmering. That must be the edge of the arena, right?"

Bryony peers closer. "I guess," she says doubtfully.

"Well, there's only one way to make sure." I know for a fact that touching the edge of the arena is a bad idea - so many tributes have done it in past Games that for us, it just seems like common sense. However, a common trick is to throw something else (not human, preferably) at it.

"We need to throw something at it to make sure. Do you have anything?" I ask Bryony.

She fumbles in the bags, and pulls out the long stick that was in the backpack I found at the Cornucopia. "This?"

I nod. She throws it like a boomerang towards the shimmering edge. It bounces off it with a loud 'hiss' and lands on the floor. I can see steam rising up off of it.

"I'm pretty sure that's the edge."


"So is this the chimney?"

"This is the chimney."


We camp out on the side closest to the fence, which is about a dozen metres away. It is light now, having been searching the entire night for the edge (who knew the arena could be so big?) and we are both exhausted.

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